Fidelity's Mistress
by Akarui-Sakura
Summary: I couldn't stand the sight of him right now. That look in his eyes told me he was beyond saving, but my heart told me otherwise. Fidelity. That is what I am the goddess of. Why couldn't I simply be the goddess of truth or trust, but fidelity? Truly the nine realms and fate herself hated me. (Sigyn x Loki) Starting from Thor's coronation in the 1st movie carrying through to 2nd.


Words in _italics _are thoughts.

Words in Old Norse are asterisked and then translated at the bottom of the story.

* * *

I couldn't stand the sight of him right now. That look in his eyes told me he was beyond saving, but my heart told me otherwise. Fidelity. That is what I am the goddess of. Why couldn't I simply be the goddess of truth or trust, but fidelity? Truly the nine realms and fate herself hated me.

* * *

The rich golden light of the early rising sun shone through the drapes at my window as I awoke. Languidly I stretched out my muscles and arched my back, before finally sitting up and turning my bare feet to the floor. I feel a delightful shiver at the cool of the stone underfoot, but wrapping up a jade robe around my waist all the same, before padding my way to the washroom adjoining mine; splashing water on my face and then patting it dry with a fluffy towel before quickly running fingers through my unruly strawberry-blonde hair to tame it, and heaving a sigh at its disobedience. I could hear the birds sing, and I hummed along in time to their gently lilting tune, a slight rise in my step as I walked out into the passage and made my way out to the main living space where an elegant woman with reddish-blonde hair elaborately done up, wearing an elaborately embroidered navy hangerock* was sitting by a large window embroidering.

"Gó∂an morgin, mó∂ir*," I called pleasantly, as I reached for a bowl for my porridge, and put a hunk of cheese into my mouth all in the same moment, all the while dancing to an unheard tune.

My mother looked up at me then, first with a welcoming smile and then a slight frown as she took in my unladylike manner.

"Dear ∂ótir* Sigyn, why are you still in such a state? It is a most advantageous thing that you are an early riser. Did you forget what day it is?"

I puzzled at her response as I spooned the mornings porridge into my bowl, still working on swallowing the cheese, before it dawned on me, nearly dropping the bowl in my realisation. Placing it on the bench and taking a gulp I spin around.

"The crowning of Prince Thor cannot be today, surely. Oh Odin, help me. I must hurry and make my way to help with preparations. I couldn't help but finish reading that book on the nine realms, the politics are too interesting to pass on."

"You most certainly are your fa∂ir's* ∂ótir, with your head in a book and your thirst for knowledge," my mother responds with an amused chuckle and shake of her head.

I quickly spoon porridge into my mouth and scoop up some berries to follow – my mother scoffing at me once again – before bolting to my chambers to change.

Hearing my mother call as I pass her, "You would lose that pretty head, dear Sigyn, had it not been attached to your neck. Call for me, so I may do your hair."

My dress is made of fine silk, in varying shades of iridescent greens so pale they would almost appear white, the folds of the fabric fall delicately around me sweeping the floor, and my armlets are the colour of gold to match the decorative breastplate over top the fabric. It is simple in its embellishments, but the use of such fine materials will satisfy my mother as well as the demands of propriety and the importance of the event at hand. I have little desire for gaudy possessions, though I do like pretty things, it is of little importance to me. As I stare at my reflection in the freestanding mirror, I hear the soft footfalls of my mother as she makes her way to my room. I must have taken longer than I presumed if she has made her way to me, so I open my door before she knocks and step aside as I bade her enter. Ever the perfectionist in all things, my mother smooths out any wrinkles visible only to her eye, securing any pins in the folds, and tightens the strappings on the breastplate before taking a step back for a moment to peruse my visage before guiding me to my vanity to sit. I pass her my bone comb and face forward as she frees my braid and starts to untangle the mess my tossing and turning through the night has created. Relaxing into the soothing repetitive motions of my mother's care as she combs my hair and then creates two waterfall braids on either side of my face and joining in the back over loose strands, it is all over too quickly, before she holds up a finger indicating that I must wait a moment and leaves the room. Not a moment later my mother returns with a gleam in her eye and a small wooden box in her delicate hands. The box is held together with brass hinges and a lock, which she unlocks with magic through a swift motion of her hand to reveal a golden circlet intricately wrought in the form of a loose braid, tiny stones which I presumed to be diamonds inlayed at each crossing of the metal.

A raise a hand to touch it before thinking better of it and raising my eyes to my mother's reflection in a question of consent, to which she nods with a smile.

As I lift it from the golden coloured velvet inside, I cannot contain my astonishment as the stones begin to change colour, though never settling on anything in particular, the colours swirl like smoke and I marvel at its hypnotic beauty.

"The are known as Sincerity Stones," she explains, and noticing the rather blank look on my face, mother goes on to explain, "they are simply an indicator of when one has met… their match, shall we say. They are a rarity for sure. This is the very circlet I wore when I had met your father, and also when we wed. This circlet has been in our family, passed from mother to daughter, for many a generation, and when your father passed from this life to Valhalla I put it away for you to wear when the time was right after you were of age. I could not think of a more appropriate moment than a day as important as this one."

Gently placing it atop my head mother then takes my hand so that I may stand, and leading me back towards the large mirror at the other side of my room so that I may look at myself. The moment my eyes land on my reflection I cannot help but breath in sharply. It is as if I am looking at a portrait of my mother in her youth, a woman who is well known for her beauty in Asgard and the realms beyond, and someone I had hoped to emulate in her kindness and her wisdom when I was a child. I look to my mother then, with shining eyes and I see that her eyes glisten with unshed tears and she stifles a happy sob behind her delicate hands.

"Oh mó∂ir. What is it?" I ask as I turn and envelop her in a hug before stepping back, hands on her shoulders.

"Your fa∂ir would have loved to have been here, seeing you as you are now," She sniffles before taking a calming breath, "Oh, but don't worry about me, I am just blathering unnecessarily and you must be on your way. The Allfather and Lady Frigga may be just and understanding, but they most certainly will not abide tardiness, on this day of all days."

After seeing my look of concern my mother sniffs one last time and shakes her head telling me not to worry, after which I am ushered out of the house to make my way to the Shining Light of Asgard, the palace. Welcoming in the era of the future king, Thor, will be a day to remember for all time, but also knowing that I could meet my match set my heart into a giddy flutter.

_Take a hold of your senses Sigyn! Since when has being another's half been of such interest or importance to you, and who is to say today you will meet "the one"?_

* * *

*an apron skirt/dress that can be simple or detailed (in this case elaborately embroidered)

*Good morning, mother

*daughter  
*father


End file.
